


Horny Stories to Read in the Dark

by Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)



Series: Weekly Roundup [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Armpit Kink, Autofellatio, Bestiality, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, FTM Dean Winchester, Face-Sitting, First Time, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Full Shift Werewolves, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Incest, Intersex, Jock Straps, Knotting, Light Bondage, M/M, Marathon Sex, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Power Dynamics, Puberty, Scat, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Sheathe Play, Shitfucking, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, Sweat, Threesome - M/M/M, Watersports, Wolf Derek Hale, Xeno, Xenophilia, musk, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Weekly roundup of all my prompt fills. Inside you'll find a smorgasbord of fetish. Watch your tags





	Horny Stories to Read in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> In an attempt to reconcile with AO3 this is gonna be the format moving forward. Weekly roundup fics containing everything I've written for that period. I will grab stuff retroactively, so they might come to you out of order if you're not following them as they're posted.

**Isaac has difficulty taking more than an inch or two of Jackson's dick in his mouth at a time, his gag reflex is just that obnoxious...but he does some nice work with his tongue, so it's enough for Jackson!**

Aw! This is actually a super sweet idea and I love it. The two of them being so eager to finally connect with someone and diving straight into it, but then realizing, oh fuck, we've never really done this sort of thing before. Jackson not knowing where to put his hands. Isaac accidentally being much too bitey.   
  
They're both kind of embarrassed, stumbling all over each other and definitely causing some bruising in their rush. They think maybe it's all going to fail horribly, that they're gonna have ruined the one thing that they actually had going.   
  
But then they slow it down. Isaac gently sinks to his knees, looks up at Jackson as he laps at his cockhead, nuzzles his shaft, deeply breathes in his bush. And Jackson runs fingers through Isaac's curls, runs a thumb along his lips, keeps his hips still while the other boy takes him in his mouth.   
  
They both have to really concentrate not to devolve again-- not to have Jackson fucking into Isaac's throat as he chokes-- and it's worth it. Isaac's hands tweak Jackson's nipples, grope his ass while he's suckling the head. Jackson shoves a foot into Isaac's groin to smother his skinny cock, wraps his head up in his thighs.   
  
They don't come at exactly the same time. Isaac still spits some of the spunk up and Jackson flicks his dickhead with a toenail a smidge too sharply. But once they come down, Isaac is laying his head on Jackson's naked hip, smiling, and they lean forward for a kiss.

* * *

 

**Thor sucking Quill's dick for so long, he pisses himself...maybe even loses control over his ass and shits himself too?**

It's as much a distraction as anything else. People like them have a lot on their plate. There's a lot of folks counting on them to always make the right decision, always come through with the perfect execution. It's a lot to shoulder.   
  
So in the rare times when they've got a second to breathe, with those little gaps just before the action kicks back up, they take the chance to decompress. Just a couple hours, a night, to forget what will always be ahead. Thor's been doing it for millenia, has the practice to flip a switch. So he shows his companions.   
  
He muscles Quill to bed, forces him to quiet, sucks him down smooth and wet. And he doesn't stop after the first, quick, almost painful load. He doesn't stop when the captain's thighs are shaking. He doesn't stop when Quill is mewling and curling around him almost defensively. He doesn't stop when his cock won't get hard anymore, but liquid still comes out-- warm and bitter and pungent. He goes until he seeps every possible anxiety out of Quill's skin. Even if just for a moment.

* * *

 

**Sam, Dean, Footjob, Daddy kink...that's all I have. I'd love those things together lol**

Daddy issues are a hell of a thing to work through. For some people it might mean doing a little home wrecking, or getting some nudes leaked that really shouldn't have. But the Winchesters didn't do things like most people. It was kind of their deal to blow up bigger and more disastrous than most would even dare imagine.   
  
So Dean found himself on his knees in front of his little brother, licking at his long toes and murmuring sordid things against his sole. His ears were burning, his cheeks red, but his cock was leaking and it felt so, so good to have family finally run fingers through his hair.   
  
He didn't care what anyone thought. He couldn't think of anything that would make this not worth having. "Daddy, daddy please." He begged, lips pressed to the side his brother's shaft. He wriggled on his shins, presenting his own, dripping erection, desperate. Sam makes him work for it, but Dean knows he's kind, fair. He knows those long toes will wrap around him, 'good boy's will be kissed against his scalp, he'll have the daddy he always craved.

* * *

 

**Peter loved experimenting with his webs but this was ridiculous.**

There was something to be said for the ingenuity of young, horny boys. Puberty led to some of the most outlandish, but creative inventions known to man. Peter, smart as he was, found himself to be no exception. Despite all the heavy things going on in his life, he was still a teenager, with hormones running rampant.   
  
So he'd been watching porn one night, on his third load in an hour, still so keyed up that he figured he might need at least two more before he could sleep. And he came across this vid of a guy bent in half, own legs over his neck and holding him down, awkwardly bobbing on his own cock.   
  
It looked hard. It looked like it felt good. Peter had never had anything but his own hand before and well.... he wasn't just some dude with abs. He was preternaturally flexible, strong... and then there was his webs. Fifteen minutes and a hastily drawn schematic later, he'd tethered himself in just the right position, crumpled around his own body, scrawny, smelly cock in his mouth. And fuck was it good. The bitter, salty taste. The throbbing of his own flesh on his tongue. The hot gush of his spunk. He didn't even know he'd gotten stuck until a hard shot load spurted from his nostrils, Peter unable to pull back as he shot off.

* * *

 

**Peter has never been quite as stinky as the first time he took off his new suit.**

It's almost some kind of unspoken right of passage for new heroes. None of them really think this through to the logical conclusion. There's so many other things to focus on than the idea that all that sweat and grime is going to be sealed in, no where for it to go. And it's not like that's a particularly kosher topic to bring up, even when it's been discovered.   
  
So Peter goes in blind, all hyped just for being asked to come along, for getting to participate and hit the big leagues. But when he gets home, the mundane reality sets in. It's so much worse than any gym bag left open in his school. Pure, condense puberty seeping through this skin and steeped into the fabric. It's tangy and salty and has those notes of a particular, animal sort of musk.   
  
Like a sharp cheese, it's tacky and gritty, pebbles in his crevices. He winces at the stench, but can't stop taking whiffs of it. From under his arms, in the folds of the actual suit. It's that kind of bad that your lizard brain just wants to keep investigating, to understand. So he lays out on his bed, presses it tight to his face, takes it in deep. He doesn't even realize he's hard until a small, sedate load drools out his cock. It's the perfect come down to a stressful evening.

* * *

 

**Stiles was being annoying, more than usual, and Scott knew one way of fixing it, not showering for a week, getting stiles alone, getting him buzzed, wearing a tank top, short shorts, and a jock, then... Profit?**

Honestly, I'm not entirely following this prompt. :P I lost the thread a couple times reading through it, so I'm just gonna go with something that sounds fun, hope it's close enough.   
  
Sometimes Stiles would get this buzz. Scott didn't know how else to describe it. He was jittery and anxious and his attention could never sit too long on any one thing. It was shitty to have to watch, not knowing how to fix it. At least, for a time. But when Scott got turned, his senses sharpened, and there was a whole world of signals he was introduced to-- a language Stiles didn't know he was communicating.   
  
Scott could smell the second it set in, this tight, sour sort of smell in the pit of his friend's stomach. Stiles put out these little flags, these pheromones just begging for help. Help getting those shakes to stop. Wanting to be wrung out. And after a little experimenting, Scott knew just how to get that done for him.   
  
Because there were also these moments when Stiles bloomed. He slouched into his seat, lazily spread his legs, lifted his arms and clenched his toes. It was when Derek was working out, or Isaac and Jackson were wrestling. It definitely happened when Scott changed in front of him for lacrosse. So the next time the buzz came back, Scott was ready. He pressed Stiles into the couch, straddled his chest, pressed his face into the pouch of his yellowing jock, told him to breathe deep. It settled them both.

* * *

 

**Peter’s embarrassed when he smells his own mess while Thor’s fucking him, but the god is more than just pleased by the filth coating his cock and balls.**

He'd never done this before. Hell, Peter hadn't even progressed very far down porn holes in his life yet. Sure he knew it was a thing for some people to like licking feet or getting spanked, but that was about as far as his exploration into sexuality had gotten. How was he supposed to know that if he was getting fucked there was supposed to be a lot of preparation done in advance?   
  
It was embarrassing when he was so tight it took a half hour for Thor to get him open, but jitters were okay when you were about to get it up the ass from a God. He was okay with that, he could live with it, laugh nervously but still feel sensual as hell when Thor kissed him from behind, bent him back for it with a huge hand around his throat.   
  
This was different. Feeling when that fat, otherworldly cock went further inside him than he expected-- when it hit something solid and put pressure in his stomach. That was mortifying. Smelling the dank, earthy scent. Hearing the wet, sticky sounds as Thor pulled out, dragging filth with him. Peter wanted to die. He wanted to curl up and never be seen again. But the Asgardian didn't stop. Instead Peter was only met with a deep, dirty moan and was thrust into again and again. Spreading it. Slapping it between his ass and Thor's balls. Sticking them together with shit. He went in not knowing any better, but if the size of Thor's orgasm was anything to go by, maybe he was a natural at this.

* * *

 

**Sam was too curious to stop himself from trying to catch a better whiff of Dean’s smelly crotch during his nap.**

When it first started, Sam didn't know the right terms for it. He couldn't just say that his brother was going through puberty, so he was starting to smell like a teenager-- gathering sweat and nubile spunk and grungy piss in his groin. He didn't know that it was sexual for either of them. He was just a kid that noticed his brother smelled different... good.   
  
But he was nervous to ask about it. Especially since Dean started getting moody, locking himself in the bathroom for a long time, telling Sammy not to get close to him anymore, especially in bed. Still, he couldn't leave it alone, so he took matters into his own hands. He pressed his face in Dean's dirty jeans and underwear. He rubbed his nose into the sheets where his brother had slept. He spent hours looking at and tasting all the little stains the older boy would leave.   
  
He wanted the real thing. He needed to be that much closer. He waited until their dad was on a hunt, and Dean passed out in front of the tv "babysitting". Sam crawled between his knees, little hands carefully spreading his thighs. There was a bulge there now. It wasn't fat like their dad's, but it was bigger than Sammy's, bigger than it used to be. It twitched and fattened as he snuffled, made whiny noises in his sleep. Sam's eyes fluttered closed as he ran his nose along the shape of it, shuddered at the warmth, the stench. It filled his head, made his mouth water. He latched onto the tip of it, mewled when he felt liquid fill his mouth, bucked at his first, dry orgasm against his own hand. Dean may have started first, but Sam couldn't wait to catch up.

* * *

 

**ftm Dean sitting on someone’s face while they eat him out? Hair pulling and him grinding down against his mouth and nose would be a bonus**

It was never a problem of Dean getting enough dick. He got fucked in truckstop stalls and diner pantries plenty, but that's all they ever were. He was usually bent over whatever flat surface they could find, rarely even got his jeans past his knees. He definitely couldn't remember the last time he gotten eaten out-- a guy offering to go down on him instead of just spitting at his cunt and shoving dirty fingers inside. He'd buck and bite, sure, but he rarely got much of his own way.   
  
Cas though? Cas loved when Dean growled at him, pushed him onto the couch, straddled his face. He smiled, pretty face framed by Dean's thick thighs, and nuzzled lovingly between his swollen lips, kissing at the underside of his t cock and lipping at it so gently. Dean shuddered, running fingers through that thick, dark hair, tugged on it to pull Cas deeper.   
  
His angel wasn't afraid to get smothered in Dean's sticky cunt, licking deep and smearing his mouth across every crevice. Dean kept himself steady leaning back, hand planted on Cas' chest, grinding against Cas' mouth and nose. His thighs closed tighter and tighter. His bush matted with saliva and slick. He shook as Cas' moans vibrated against his tender insides, lips and teeth carefully suckling against swollen flesh. He wouldn't get up even as Cas' face and scalp sweat, his own thighs trembled, they started to ride the line between sensual and sore.   
  
He'd been waiting so long for this, it was his turn to indulge.

* * *

 

**Hi! 12/16 prompt thingy - maybe Stiles with wolf Derek, where Stiles eats his ass and/or nurses on his sheath and knot?**

Derek loved to lay in the sun on lazy Sunday afternoons. His dark fur soaked up all the warmth, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his legs twitched with dreams of running through the forest. Stiles loved to watch it. He'd sit with his chin perched in his hands, loving every inch of the wolf before him and the life they'd managed to make together.   
  
Often enough, those amorous feelings blossomed enough that Stiles couldn't just sit idly by. He couldn't keep all this adoration to himself. So slowly, gently, he'd slide to his knees, make his way over on all fours. He learned to slink and sidle from Derek, knew just what floorboards to avoid in their home so his mate stayed unaware.   
  
He'd start by nuzzling at Derek's fat, warm balls. They smelled so animal, so lewd, and he'd run his nose in circles around the heft of them, breathing that in. Derek's sheathe would fatten at the attention, girthy and soft. Stiles lipped at the width of it, followed it from his sack to where the sticky, soft mouth glistened with slick. His tongue dipped just inside, testing the stretch of skin, tasting the canine salt of his wet cock waiting just inside. By then Derek would make a little groaning nose, stretch as he awoke, start to pant.   
  
Stiles laid his body over him, loving the silken, luxurious feel of all that sun-warmed fur against his skin. Derek lifted his tail, wriggled, whined in pleasure when Stiles wriggled his fingers to play with the pucker hidden beneath. They tangled, leisurely, lovingly, in no rush. Stiles made love to his wolf in a way that was uniquely theirs. He couldn't think of anything in the world that was better.

* * *

 

**Hey, I‘ve been thinking so much about Sterek and their intersex son... Maybe some more of that? With farts and watersports and scat and all those amazing nasties?**

When Aleksy finally joined them in their bed and made their family totally complete, Derek and Stiles could think of no better treat for their boy than to fuck him senseless. Huddled between his parents' bodies, they smothered him in their love, their lust for their beautiful, blossoming son. Stiles took him from behind, stroked his boy's hairy thighs possessively as he used his small cock to give Aleksy an easy first time with anal. Meanwhile, Derek filled his warm, smelly pussy with every fat, dirty inch of his own, obscene cock. He sucked on his son's tongue greedily, almost aggressive enough to choke, and made him writhe for his father's thick load.   
  
They moved in perfect synchronicity, working like pistons to make sure Aleksy was never empty. They churned his holes between them, making mess of the sheets, his skin. Cum and sweat and saliva soaked into every crevice, got him sloppily drunk on his fathers' sex. Derek wrung the first orgasm from him, frigging his clit as he slapped his balls against his cunt and made out with Stiles over his shoulder. Stiles got the next, pinching his tits and hitting his prostate over and over. They made him shake and almost cry when they rubbed against each other, playing with his swollen lips, soaking him in both their loads at the same time.   
  
But they didn't stop. Even as the room started to reek of their sex. Even as Aleksy started to get oversensitive. Even as they'd been at it all afternoon. And he couldn't even ask them to stop, he didn't want them to. He'd wanted to be included in their love making for as long as he could remember, always watching with wide eyes and wishing he could be with them. So even as Derek punched so hard into his pussy that he sprayed piss, he asked for more. Even as his stomach rumbled and the air filled with his foul gas, he asked for more. Even as Stiles started to smear his own shit up his ass crack and between the two of them, he needed more.   
  
Luckily for him, his fathers had been watching, waiting just as long. They made themselves a third, beautiful lover, and finally, they could have him. They collapsed eventually, in a puddle of their filth, affection. It was everything the three of them had ever wanted. And they could have it, forever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this content and wanna engage with it more, you can come hang out with us over on twitter @DirtcoreD There's loads going on over there, including my calls for more prompts on curiouscat. So if you'd like some filth of your own, feel free!


End file.
